


a self-fulfilling prophecy of endless possibility

by spectrespecs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, For the most part, Introspection, Iverson is a good dude, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, he's just very tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-11 02:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrespecs/pseuds/spectrespecs
Summary: When Takashi Shirogane comes to the Galaxy Garrison, Iverson knows what to expect; there's a file to tell him. When Shiro brings Keith to the Garrison, Iverson doesn't know what to expect. But he watches.Iverson observes Shiro and Keith grow separately and together through the years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think about Iverson a lot. A good dude.
> 
> Title from [Analyse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIFEUEl4PQ8) by Thom Yorke

When Takashi Shirogane came to the Galaxy Garrison, he was 15-years-old with hair trimmed to regulation length, bangs that just pushed passable, and a face set with determination. He stood straighter than the other cadets. His _yes, sir_ firmer than the other cadets. His grades higher than the rest. His sim scores so beyond his peers that he deserved to be piloting in space within months. But Iverson knew all this before Shirogane stepped foot onto Garrison grounds when all he saw was a file for a recruit who applied to the Garrison with glowing recommendations and scores that no one had seen for entry in decades.

Slowly, Iverson realizes that Shirogane has something to prove. He has nothing to prove to the upper brass, as far as Iverson is concerned, because to them he was his file that they already approved. He isn’t trying to prove anything to a military family back home brimming with pride and tradition to see their son truly fly through the ranks. There was no family, Iverson knew that before Shirogane arrived as well. A passing remark on the file that the grandfather who raised him recently died. He isn’t trying to prove anything to the other cadets. While there are clear grudges, cadets scowling behind his back, it’s hard for them to be bitter for long.

Because the other thing about Shirogane is he’s a natural leader in every sense of the description. He hears someone grumble about their sim scores, and he offers to help. And it’s not in a condescending way. It’s not in a pitying way, never. Shirogane extends the help in the sincerest terms, hoping to get the best out of everyone, not just himself.

That still doesn’t answer for Iverson what the cadet is trying so hard to prove because even if all outside spectators have been eliminated from the running, Iverson can still feel it in the ways that Shirogane pushes himself during physical training. The way he always manages to do just that bit better on every sim and ones he’s already passed before.

The day comes when Iverson finally learns who Shirogane is trying to prove himself to.

Seasons are changing over to spring, but this is the desert and things like that are irrelevant when no matter what, the day is hot and the night is chilled. Shirogane is in his first-year physical training class, and he collapses. Later someone tells Iverson it was like seeing a marionette being cut from its strings, how he collapsed down in on himself, his own cry of pain drowned by the gasps of everyone else in the room.

Admiral Sanda calls Iverson, Holt, and Montgomery into her office and points down at Shirogane’s file on her desk.

“Who knew?” she asks accusatory.

There’s only silence in response.

“I did, Admiral,” Holt states matter-of-factly.

“And you didn’t tell anyone. You didn’t disclose that this boy is a liability?”

“He is not a liability. His condition is not a liability. He is not his condition.”

Iverson doesn’t view Holt as soft perse—the scientist went through the same training as a cadet as he did—but he never thought Holt’s voice could ring out so sternly and with authority, as it did now. Iverson wouldn’t hear that same ferocity in Holt’s voice for several years.

So Iverson learns that Shirogane is sick. He has a degenerative muscle disorder and a looming cut-off date that threatens to hold him back from the stars he’s straining to reach. Something working within him, uncontrollable. He’d hidden the information when applying for the Garrison. Shirogane was trying to prove to himself that he can do this; Shirogane was trying to prove to his disease that it did not, and would not, keep him back. Iverson thinks of all the times he supervised physical training for the cadets and pushed them to do extra laps. He thinks of times he made classes spend extra hours in the sims running drills. Was Shirogane in pain all those times, gritting his teeth to hide it and push on?

Pity is the last thing he would ever feel towards Shirogane because he knows that’s not what the boy wants. He just wants to be the best he can be and wishes the same for others.

The meeting lasts for hours, much longer than Iverson would think for the matter, but there’s a push and pull, a back and forth, between all the top Garrison officials as to what to do about Shirogane.

“Holt said it already,” Iverson barks over bickering, tiring of trying to keep the vein on his forehead from bursting due to sheer aggravation.

Heads turn to where he’s sitting. Holt’s eyes flash with surprise before he bends his head down to look at Iverson over the top of his glasses.

“Cadet Shirogane is not his condition,” Iverson explains. “He’s also not just the poster boy everyone is dreaming of making him for the Galaxy Garrison since his file fell onto an admissions table. He’s the best, and he’s going to do great things for the Garrison, for science, no matter what. That’s what to consider.”

Admiral Sanda scowls at Iverson this time before calling for a vote on the matter before anyone else can start speaking.

Iverson is sent to give the final decision to Shirogane after Holt tries to at first, but Sanda stomps him down for being too familiar with the boy.

He’s never seen the young cadet look so small and vulnerable where he’s sitting with legs pulled up on a bed in the medical wing, arms wrapped around himself. At the sound of footsteps approaching, Shirogane looks up, eyes red-rimmed with fresh trails of his crying still visible on his cheeks.

“Cadet Shirogane,” Iverson starts and sees the boy tense. He pauses and begins again, using the name he knows the cadet goes by among his friends and peers. “Shiro.” Iverson feels a shift.

“Commander Iverson,” his voice cracks addressing his superior, rough from keeping back the fear and dismay that threatens to creep out. He clears his throat and tries again. “Sir.”

“You’re to spend the night in the medical wing for monitoring. The doctors will look you over in the morning, and if things are clear as expected, you will go to your classes tomorrow. Starting next week, you will also be coming into the medical wing once a week for check-ups and to start therapy regimens for your muscles. Understood, cadet?”

Shiro tenses, looking confused as if he doesn’t believe the words that have just left Iverson’s mouth. He had been ready to be kicked out, to have his one dream snuffed out after a single moment of revealed weakness.

“I said,” Iverson takes up his hard tone again. “Understood, Cadet Shirogane?”

“Y—yes, sir,” Shiro stutters out and tries to rush and stand to salute.

“No, no, stay down, _Shiro_ , don’t get up,” Iverson can’t help but chuckle at the boy’s earnest eagerness to still follow military conventions.

“Thank you, sir,” Shiro offers, firmer but still wavering.

“I expect your best,” Iverson nods. “And I expect to hear you’re in class tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” and that’s the firm response that Iverson has known from the cadet since Day One.

Iverson never questioned Shiro’s commitment to the Garrison and to flying, so it was no surprise when Shiro was the first person sitting at his desk for his 0700-hour class after being released from the medical wing.

And every day that followed, Shiro kept up with exactly this. Iverson watched him keep scoring higher and higher on sim scores and tests as he continued to make his way up the ranks, stripes added to his cadet uniform.

All through it, the two of them would talk. It would be small moments here and there in Iverson’s office or in the hall. Iverson didn’t do it because he was worried about the boy being fragile and wanting to make sure he wasn’t falling apart in secret again—well, the latter might have been part of it. But Iverson doesn’t want to see the boy crash and burn before he even gets a chance to leave the Earth’s atmosphere at least once.

\---

It’s night, most of the Garrison is in the mess hall for dinner, and Iverson finally escapes an ever-growing amount of paperwork. He sees someone leaning against a wall, slumped over slightly with their hands on their knees.

“Shiro?” Iverson questions as he gets closer. He has two stripes on the shoulders of his orange cadet uniform now.

The boy’s head turns whip-fast to look up at Iverson before he scrambles to stand up properly.

“Sir,” his voice is strained, breathless.

“What’s going on, cadet?”

“Just left the medical wing, sir.”

Ah, the mandated therapy for his muscles. The first few weeks after Iverson had told Shiro that he would need to go, Iverson would ask him how it was going. Just a simple exchange of _your sessions are going well_ and _yes, sir._ But that tapered off as it became evident that there was no need to worry. It seems that changed now.

Iverson just nods. “On your way to the mess hall?”

“No, sir,” Shiro shakes his head slowly. “I just—I just need to get back to my room.”

“Well, I’m going that way as well, cadet,” Iverson is not, but he is now.

“Yes, sir,” Shiro nods in acknowledgment, that’s all he needs.

Iverson walks next to Shiro, keeps at his pace, and watches from the corner of his eye in case there’s ever a waver in the boy’s steps. If the two had not built up an amicable relationship between commander and cadet, then this would have been tense, uncomfortable. But it’s not until they cross into the cadet barracks wing and Shiro abruptly asks a question.

“Do you pity me, sir?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Shiro nods tightly and remains quiet until they reach the split off for the second year cadet hall.

“What did you need down here, sir?”

“I seem to have forgotten,” Iverson strokes his chin. “Oh, well. You better be in top shape for class tomorrow, Cadet Shirogane.”

“Yes, sir,” and there’s the hint of a smile on his face as Iverson walks away, leaving Shiro to make the last portion of the trip himself.

\---

Iverson watches Shiro get assigned to a flight partner and become close to the other cadet, Adam. They both graduate as officers together. They are hand-in-hand through the graduation party, and Iverson knows what their closeness evolved to. He is happy for Shiro. He’s glad to see that Shiro has hopefully found something good out here in the desert other than just the stars above.

“Are you doing well, son?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Shiro keeps breaking records. He keeps going above and beyond what anyone ever expected, likely even himself, but he remains humble. He flushes at praise and encourages those around him to always give their all as well. That’s why he inevitably gets sent out to bring in recruits, his name already becoming known in households everywhere for always being in the news for another achievement. Another step forward for humans and space. The high command takes pride in Shiro as a shining beacon of all that the Galaxy Garrison represents. Iverson takes pride in Shiro for what the boy represents of himself: determination.

Often after he returns from recruiting, Shiro will come to Iverson and not quite bemoan the youth because he would never talk down or speak ill of any of them, but there’s more than a hint of utter exasperation in his voice while recapping the day.

“It’s not that they’re bad at the sims, no, and it’s not that they’re bad students. It’s just…”

“There’s potential missing,” Iverson states plainly over his steepled fingers, elbows resting on the desk in front of him.

“I guess so,” Shiro looks down at his hands, the slightest tremor runs through the right.

It’s after one of the days Shiro has gone out to a local school to administer the Orbit Axiom X sim tests to students that he comes back and asks to meet with the commanding officers involved with accepting new recruits.

He tells them about a boy he met at the school whose scores were better than anyone else’s he’s ever seen during his outreach and how he knows for certain this boy is going to go even further than Shiro is now. The excitement in his voice barely contained as he tries to maintain a professional demeanor to recommend the possible recruit. With enthusiasm coating every word Shiro provides about the boy, Keith, the commanding officers cannot help but give their approval to bring him in the following day. Iverson doesn’t find out until later that Shiro was planning on bringing Keith in no matter what the brass said, already having told him to meet up the next day. And it’s much later, with the flush of alcohol and a look of adoration as he peers across the room that Shiro further elaborates to Iverson on that first meeting with Keith.

\---

He’s small. Shiro ushers Keith into Iverson’s office the following day, and he’s smaller than any other recruit, maybe with the exception of Holt’s son before the slight growth spurt, but this kid is small. Iverson will learn to not be on the wrong side of his ferocity, though.

“Commander Iverson, this is the recruit I was speaking highly of yesterday, Keith,” Shiro begins the introduction. “Keith, this is Commander Iverson, one of the best commanding officers at the Galaxy Garrison.”

Keith has every muscle in his body set in a defensive stance, only missing crossed arms to complete the picture of self-preservation, but the fists at his sides convey enough.

“It’s good to meet you, son,” Iverson stands and nods at the would-be cadet.

“Thank you, sir,” Keith nods back. “You as well.”

It sounds just a bit on the side of rehearsed as if Shiro had told Keith exactly what to do before walking in, which isn’t all that surprising.

“Thank you for meeting with him, sir,” Shiro says to Iverson, a smile of appreciation on his face. And maybe even a hint of excitement spilling through. _He really believes in this boy,_ Iverson thinks.

They leave so Shiro can show him more of the Garrison, and Iverson suspects, even though it’s not allowed for non-personnel, Shiro will take Keith to one of the sim rooms and see what he can do.

Later that day when Shiro returns from dropping Keith back off in the city, Iverson goes to his office.

“Yes, sir?” Shiro startles to see the commanding officer walk in and stands immediately, almost knocking over the coffee in his hand. He clearly ignored responsibilities to spend the day with the boy and needs to stay awake late to catch up on what he placed on the backburner. It’s on the tip of Iverson’s tongue to say something, but the scrutiny on his desk is obvious to Shiro.

“I promise everything will be done on time, sir,” Shiro flinches.

“Good,” Iverson states simply, and then he presses on to what he truly came here to know. “How did he do?”

“I’m sorry?” Shiro asks, confused, hastily adding a _sir_ to the end of the statement as an afterthought.

“How did he do on the sims today, Shiro?”

There’s a moment of pause where Shiro stares back at Iverson, and they may not be extremely close, but they know each other enough. Iverson has been through enough with the junior officer to hopefully get across why he’s asking. It’s not accusatory.

“ _Amazing,_ ” Shiro beams, finally.

\---

It’s unsurprising that on the day of new cadets moving in, Keith is among the crowd of awed and anxious faces, except Keith doesn’t wear the same emotions. He’s tense, yes, but Shiro is at his side guiding him through the halls, a hand on one shoulder, not steering or leading, just a presence as they seem to make unconscious choices on which ways to turn together.

And Keith is amazing. During the first sim class, he smashes everyone else. And these kids are young, they’re jealous; they cry cheating. It mirrors back to what Iverson watched happen around Shiro, but Keith does not have the same personality as Shiro. He closes up and brushes off everyone and only looks ahead, except for the times he’ll turn to look towards Shiro instead. That’s the other thing, though. Shiro. He’s a hero to so many with his list of accomplishments, and he gives his time to Keith. Keith, who has no idea of the reputation of the junior officer that recommended him for the Garrison. It’s clear that to Keith, Shiro is just Shiro.

The problems start a month in with Keith knowing too well that he’s better than the rest of his class. It leaves Iverson more times than not having to pinch the bridge of his nose and trying not to explode, but it gets to be too much. It occurs too often where Keith will pull out of formation during basic sim practice, exaggerated yawns and all. He pushes too hard during physical training days. He slams people to the mats a little too hard, surprising everyone that there’s so much strength hidden inside him. Shiro seems to be the only one never surprised every time a teacher goes to him to complain about the kid he recruited with such a glowing review.

“You’re going to stand behind him still, son?” Iverson asks at the end of another meeting about the progress of the new cadets.

“Yes, sir,” Shiro responds, and it’s the same firm _yes, sir_ from when he was fresh-faced and showing everyone that he would make it to the depths of space.

Iverson is in the control room observing the cadets running a formation sim practice with Shiro. Keith yawns as Shiro tells them to change their course before splitting away from the group.

“Sorry, just testing my controls,” Keith offers as an explanation, but no one believes him. Shiro shifts uncomfortably in his seat and provides the next instructions, but this time Keith once again doesn’t follow and breaks away.

Iverson has had it. He storms out of the control room down to the main sim floor and calls for the cadets to come out. Shiro is definitely watching from above as Iverson yells at Keith for his consistent insubordination. Keith’s face remains passive, unbothered by the dressing down as if it’s just one more time to add to his list. It infuriates Iverson even more and he has to walk away before going off on the boy further.

As he walks away, he hears some whispered words and then there’s the telltale sound of a fist making contact with flesh, and Griffin is on the ground with Keith on top of him, fist pulled back and prepared for another punch. Iverson and the other commanders run towards the skirmish and haul the boy back. Shiro runs down and slides to a stop in front of them. Iverson holds Keith roughly and stares at Shiro. _I hope you still think he’s worth it_ is all Iverson can think while looking at the other man. His face contorted with rage makes Shiro take a step back and straighten up. He looks down and sees that Keith won’t even look at Shiro, so Iverson drags him out of the room.

“Shirogane, follow me,” Iverson barks over his shoulder, the lack of title in the command further expressing his anger. “And bring Griffin,” he adds as an afterthought, forgetting the other cadet’s place in the fight, agitation too narrowed in on Shiro and Keith.

Shiro finally gets an official reprimand by the Garrison about Keith since the cadet is there on Shiro’s word. He’s the one constantly fighting for the boy to be here and not giving up. Iverson hears that Shiro still stands by Keith and is unsurprised when later that day Shiro knocks at his office door.

“You can come in, Officer.”

“Commander Iverson,” Shiro salutes before Iverson nods at him to be at ease.

“I want to assure you that this will not happen again,” Shiro says.

“And what makes you say that?” Iverson leans back in his chair, eyes hard on Shiro.

“He’s good, sir,” Shiro offers, face falling. “He just needs someone to believe in him and help him. He thinks this is going to be taken away from him at any second, like being here is too good to be true...and I understand that, sir.”

“Are you making him a pet project, Shirogane?”

“NO!” he yells, and they’re both surprised at the harsh tone.

Iverson puts a hand up when Shiro opens his mouth to apologize, and then he snaps it shut.

“Shiro,” he starts, “I see the potential there. But he’s too wild. He’s too unpredictable, and that will be his downfall here if he can’t get in line.”

“Keith can’t be pressured like that, sir.” He runs a hand through his hair, bangs pushing back and then falling forward. The electric bracelet around his wrist peeking through the cuff of his uniform, a reminder of the silent force Shiro fights against.

Iverson sighs, exasperated and worn down. “I understand you believe in him, but don’t get too attached.”

Shiro scowls before pushing his standard _yes, sir_ through his teeth.

“Dismissed,” Iverson waves him off, and he turns, back straight, out of the office.

What Iverson does know is after that day, Keith never is part of another fight.

\---

The mission to Kerberos has been under planning for years at this point, and Iverson sat through more meetings than he could count over every aspect of it, from the ship design to how much freeze-dried food they’d need to account for.

Holt gets named Commander of the mission, and he has to select a pilot and a Science Officer. No one is surprised when he chooses his son, Matthew, for the latter position. It’s not even preferential treatment, Iverson knows. It’s simply the fact that Matthew Holt is the best Science Officer, once he’s promoted up, that they have other than his father.

There is also no surprise when Holt says that he wants Shiro to be the pilot because of course, he would take the best pilot of the generation, the pilot who has broken every record and already formed a bond with Holt from his days as a cadet to recent small off-planet expeditions.

The surprise comes when Admiral Sanda puts her foot down on the selection of Shiro because of his condition. The memory from years ago when she stated Shiro was a liability comes back to Iverson, and he remembers the way Shiro looked when he walked into the medical wing that night. No matter how many records and deep space flights Shiro has under his belt, there’s still a grim spectre over his head trying to reach out and yank him back.

Iverson makes his way to the Officer’s Lounge after doing nighttime drills with third-year cadets, and he sees Sam Holt sitting there, rather than his office, with various datapads spread out across the table along with handwritten notes. They nod at each other before Iverson goes to make himself coffee that he shouldn’t be drinking this late, but hell, he can do what he wants.

He breaks the silence.

“Are they going to approve Shiro?”

“If they want the mission, they have to.”

Iverson nods at the answer even though Holt never looked up from the desk to see the response.

He’s not there for the meeting, but he hears about it later. How Holt demanded to Sanda that there would be no mission if Shiro was not the pilot. At the end of the week, the mission is officially announced with the crew of Samuel Holt, Matthew Holt, and Takashi Shirogane.

\---

There’s months of training and preparations still to follow, but a feeling of anticipation washes over the people at the Galaxy Garrison after the announcement since they’ll be witness to a historic event.

It takes a few weeks before Iverson notes a change in Shiro. His smiles at congratulations start genuine but end strained. There’s a lingering tenseness that Iverson initially assumes comes from the burden of the mission, what it could possibly mean for Shiro’s health. Or maybe because he’s being promoted to a Lieutenant. But then he realizes what Shiro is missing, and that is Adam. Iverson never gave the couple much thought, they existed in the background of his Garrison life, only noting their closeness at events.

Shiro is sitting with his head in his hands one late night in the Officer’s Lounge. His ever present bangs flopping down to obscure his face and the sides of his hair trimmed short. He looks up at Iverson and gives a nod of greeting.

Iverson wants the best for the boy—well, now a man, but he can’t help but see the 15-year-old with tear tracks down his face right now.

“Shiro, are you and Officer W—”

“We needed different things,” and that’s the conversation

\---

Shiro’s responsibilities shift as mission preparation goes into high gear, so Iverson sees him less. They have the occasional pass-by and catch up. But most often, from a distance, Iverson still sees Keith with Shiro. That never changes.

When Shiro appears to have a day to eat in the mess hall at normal hours at dinner, Keith is at his side. Their heads bent and talking between hastily shoved mouthfuls of military food. They share smiles and laughter. Their closeness has also become a natural sight to the majority of Garrison personnel. Of course the best pilot and the one hot on the heels of his records are close. It just made sense.

On weekends Iverson has seen two distant dots in the desert leaving the signs of hoverbike dust trails. Shiro took Keith to get his license one weekend. He excitedly told Iverson this the last time they encountered each other in the lounge.

They found some sense of stability in each other, it dawns on Iverson when for the third weekend in a row he walks across the top floor of the Garrison, and through the windows, he can see the two leaving on bikes.

The weeks come faster and faster and the excitement over the Kerberos Mission that had simmered in the months since the announcement comes back in full force as they near the week of the launch.

A cold goes through the officer ranks and leaves holes in the patrol schedules as people have to take sick days, so Iverson finds himself with a night patrol shift for the first time in years. It’s inconveniencing and annoying, that’s the kindest thing he can say at being given the short straw. He changes the path he’d been circling of the halls to go up to the roof for a moment of fresh air and is surprised to hear voices.

Walking slowly, he just barely makes out in the darkness that it’s Shiro and Keith sitting up on the roof. They each have a blanket wrapped around themselves and are looking up at the sky, faces illuminated by the clear view of the moon and Milky Way. He’s close enough now that he can hear them but still hidden among the darkness and ducts on the roof. Iverson wants to move out from the shadows and reprimand them for being out here, Keith well past curfew for cadets and Shiro for being so irresponsible the week of the launch, but then he pauses upon really listening to what they’re saying.

“I’ll come back, don’t worry,” Shiro says lightly, a hand moving to ruffle Keith’s hair.

“Promise?” Keith grumbles.

“Of course. I need to see how many of my records you break, and, most importantly, we have to fly together someday, Keith.”

“I’m gonna break all your records, old timer,” Keith laughs. “But, yeah...I can’t wait for us to fly together.”

“You have to promise me something as well, though.”

“What?”

“That you’ll be here when I get back.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro chuckles, “but I want you here when I’m back.”

“Of course, Shiro.”

They shuffle towards each other and hug. Iverson softens at the sight and then turns to leave. Maybe they were what each other needed all along.

The next morning Shiro walks into Iverson’s office.

“Do you have a moment, Commander?”

“Of course,” he gestures to the seat in front of his desk and Shiro closes the door behind him.

“While I’m gone, can you…” he trails off, eye contact with Iverson not wavering even though the rest of him appears to be. “Can you just keep an eye on Keith? Make sure he’s...just keep an eye on him.” Loss, that’s the feeling written across Shiro’s face as he gets the request out.

“Yes, sir,” Iverson replies, and Shiro lets out a startled laugh. Neither of them was expecting the response, but honestly, he doesn’t think either of them ever thought they’d truly get here, days away from Shiro not putting another achievement on the list for himself and the Garrison, but rather, Shiro going on the mission he’d been destined for all those years ago when he first walked through the Garrison doors.

\---

The day of the Kerberos Mission is set to take off dawns and Iverson goes with the top brass to watch the launch. He sees the Holt family walk toward the launch site followed by Shiro and Keith. And it makes sense because who else would Shiro care so much about to be the last person he spends time with before the leaving the planet for a year?

Iverson goes to the command room, filled close to capacity with personnel for the launch and high ranking observers. They’re all getting ready while the crew members say their goodbyes to loved ones, and an hour and a half later, Holt’s wife and daughter along with Keith make their way back to the command building and join everyone else at the deck, looking out over the launch.

Keith stays to himself in the corner. He doesn’t seem like he wants to be seen and would rather hide in the back, but to do that would be to not see out the window. So, he stands there, fists clenched by his sides, looking out straight ahead.

Shiro’s voice eventually comes over the comms as they near launch time and a screen with his face lights up. He’s smiling along with the Holts. Colleen Holt is standing next to Iverson and she grabs her daughter into a tight hug, who seems annoyed that her mother’s arms are blocking her view.

The countdown begins.

_10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1_

And they’re off, but at the same time Shiro states his _we have liftoff_ , the sound of a hand hitting the window rings out, but Iverson is the only one who turns, everyone else still too enthralled by the launch. Keith has a fist against the window, head bowed down, dark hair covering his face. His chest is heaving, and Iverson wants to go over to the boy. But he knows that’s the last thing to do right now. _Let the boy be_ , he thinks.

Keith quietly slips out of the room, a hand wiping his eyes as he goes.

\---

The first few weeks after the launch leave the Garrison still filled with excitement as every update from the crew comes in, but then, as expected, that simmers down as they go through their several month long voyage to actually reach Kerberos.

In those months, Iverson stays true to his word and keeps an eye on Keith. He sees Keith quiet down. He’s still doing significantly better than his peers, and other cadets still sneer at him. But, he’s keeping his head up and making his way through classes and sim practice quietly and efficiently.

 _That you’ll be here when I get back,_ that’s what Shiro said to Keith, and that’s what Keith is making sure of with his new demeanor. If this is what it takes for the boy to just do as he’s told, then Iverson will take it. It makes his watching over the boy just that much easier. He could honestly also use some calm time because he’s getting too old for this shit as he watches another cadet crash a sim before even getting the jet to move forward a foot.

It’s the day the Kerberos crew is scheduled to touchdown on Pluto’s moon, and all enthusiasm for the mission returns in full force. Majority of the Garrison will gather in the mess hall to watch the landing, but Iverson gets to once again be in the command room. He’s walking through the halls on his way when he sees Keith going towards the mess hall, hands in his pockets.

He doesn’t know why, but Iverson yells for him. Everyone around stops and stares at the two, assuming that there’s some discipline issue that needs to be dealt with. Keith reluctantly walks towards him, approaching with the caution of a stray cat.

“Yes, Commander Iverson,” Keith says quietly.

“Follow me, cadet,” he gives no explanation.

After a few minutes of walking and Iverson scanning them through doors, Keith finally asks where they’re going.

“The command room,” Iverson provides the simple reply, looking out the corner of his eye to see Keith nod, back going rigid.

Iverson thinks twice about telling Keith to behave when they enter the command room, and he decides that the cadet doesn’t need to be told what to do. He nods at the boy once more and walks away to where the other officers are standing. Keith cautiously makes his way around the room to a place where he will have a clear view of all the screens.

The first time Shiro’s voice comes through the comms, there’s a small gasp, and Iverson can tell it’s Keith. After the first two weeks of the mission, all communications with the crew had only been released to the public as transcripts, so it’s been months since Keith heard his friend’s voice. There’s a pang of surprising sadness that quickly zips through Iverson before he refocuses on the process of landing. When Shiro successfully lands the ship, applause rings out with cheers across the room and the video link is restored so they can see the crew and the crew can see the packed command room. Iverson doesn’t think to look over at Keith, too caught up in everything around him.

\---

Two days later, the chaos Iverson had been so dearly enjoying freedom from returns. All communication with the Kerberos Mission is lost. The message comes to him in the middle of the night, he hears his datapad incessantly going off. _URGENT_ notifications fill his screen, and for the first time since he came to the Garrison, he feels genuine fear at what this could all be about. When he walks into the main strategy room, all the top officials are already there, pointing and yelling. There’s footage playing on the screen of the probes facing Kerberos, but there’s nothing in sight.

“What’s going on,” he yells so someone can tell him what the hell is happening.

“They’re missing,” someone replies, Iverson doesn’t remember who, he just remembers sitting down in the nearest chair and feeling numb. It was the first time he’d felt this way as well. The memory of Shiro in the hospital bed flashes through his mind again.

So, Shiro had made it to the stars, but at what cost?

No one in that room sleeps that night as they keep a link with the mission command room, waiting to hear anything. But there’s nothing. The ship is gone. The crew is gone. There’s no crash they can see anywhere. They just...disappeared.

But they do intercept a transmission, and as it plays across the command room, everyone freezes.

_We found these primitive scientists. I don’t think they know anything useful. Take them back to the main fleet for interrogation. The Druids will find out what they know._

When a full 24 hours pass without contact, Admiral Sanda makes the call to declare the mission lost and failed with the crew dead.

“But what are we going to give as the cause?”

“ _Pilot error,_ ” she says, voice snapping like a shut book. That’s it.

And because Iverson is a military man, because he is trained to follow orders and commands, he goes with it. He goes with it because he has to and he slowly convinces himself that it’s true. What other way is there for the entire mission to just vanish into the darkness of space? That message they intercepted, there’s no way to know what that was. He moves on.

But it always sits uncomfortably at the back of his head.

They announce it at the Garrison before sending it to the press. They don’t even alert the remaining Holts. All Garrison personnel are called into a meeting at the mess hall. It’s packed as the day of the launch.

Iverson stands in front of the sea of faces, he tries to find one in particular, but he can’t find that dark hair and sullen face. Sanda left this task to him.

“Attention, everyone,” the murmuring in the room stops and eyes snap to him. “Communication with the Kerberos Mission has stopped. They have not checked in for over 24 hours. The mission is being declared failed due to pilot error. All crew are presumed dead.”

And then it’s bedlam. People are gasping, yelling, crying, and Iverson doesn’t feel like it’s his place to tell anyone how to feel, but he has _orders._

“ _ATTENTION,_ ” he booms over the cacophony. The silence comes slowly, but it does, with the occasional sound of a sniffle. “This will be public information shortly. You are all to remain professional and go about your roles and duties here at the Garrison. A memorial will be announced later.”

Iverson steps down from the small stage at the corner of the room that’s used for mass announcements and walks out of the mess hall, he tries to keep his eyes ahead, but they still scan the crowd for the boy, but he’s missing.

That night Keith shows up at 2 AM after having taken one of the Garrison hoverbikes out in the desert. Iverson is once again dragged up in the middle of the night and told to discipline the cadet.

He stands covered in desert dust in the middle of Iverson’s office, head down and hands clasped behind his back, unmoving and silent through the whole tirade Iverson throws at him.

“Understood, cadet?” he ends the lecture, voice feeling hoarse from his yelling.

“Yes, sir,” and he looks up at Iverson, eyes red, and it hits him harder than any spaceship crash could. Iverson collects himself, keeping the authority in his voice when he asks, “anything else you want to discuss, cadet?”

“ _No,_ sir,” Keith replies, voice steady and hiding how he’s truly feeling, clearly.

Iverson dismisses him, and that’s the first step in the downfall of Keith, which Iverson will watch with a front row seat.

\---

The memorial is held for the Holts and Shiro a week later. Colleen and Katie sit in the front row, but there’s no one there for Shiro. Not even Keith. Iverson stands on the stage behind Sanda as she offers a eulogy of sorts, and he wonders if anyone even thought to invite the boy as the closest to family Shiro seemed to have. The closest to family either of them had by the time of the launch.

That night, Keith returns at 2 AM again on a Garrison hoverbike he most definitely did not sign out. Iverson has to yell at him, again, and asks if there’s anything else, again. But the boy stays stoic, and as much as Iverson wants to just shake him and wake him up, he doesn’t.

He puts a mark in Keith’s record and dismisses him. Iverson collapses down into his office chair after the boy leaves, and he pulls out the whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk. For the first time in almost a decade, Iverson takes a sick day from duties.

\---

Keith starts slipping in classes. His grades slowly go down on tests, and he simply forgoes even doing any assignments. He becomes even more reckless in sims, making dangerous maneuvers and disregarding the instructions of officers and his flight team. Iverson thanks the stars that they aren’t in fighter jets yet, only imaging what the boy would try to pull.

It’s watching a dying star implode.

And Iverson knows he can’t stop it, it’s impossible, but God does he try. He intercepts where he can, subtly, getting to Keith before any other officer can to keep marks off the boy’s record. Anything to just try and make sure that he stays because even if there’s no Shiro to come back to him, Iverson knows that this is not what the lost pilot would have wanted to happen. Sometimes it’s on the tip of his tongue to say that. To just use Shiro’s name to snap Keith back into reality instead of his determined plummet downwards, but Iverson refrains. It might do more harm than good.

But being the one to try and reign Keith in does no favors for himself because Iverson finds himself the focus of anger and acting out from the cadet instead, and each time he’s defied by shining eyes fueled with a clear message of _what else do I have to lose,_ Iverson moves a millimeter closer to giving up.

During physical training, Keith seriously injures another cadet while sparring. When Iverson asks what the hell is wrong with him, Keith stares the commander dead in the eyes and says “I’m sorry, it was a _pilot error,_ ” the last words spit out.

Iverson slams his hands on the desk and truly, properly, _screams_ at Keith to get it together or he’s out and to leave his office.

“Yes, sir,” and he’s gone.

Arms still on the table surface, Iverson sags down. He lets everything leave his body, eyes closed and trying to level his breath. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go.

\---

One of the aspects of the Garrison always taking the best of the best means their teams are fast at learning, creating, and adapting. The engineering division develops a Kerberos rescue mission sim less than a month after the memorial.

Standing in front of the second year cadets, Keith ramrod straight in the middle but his eyes hazy, mind elsewhere, Iverson announces that the following week they’ll shift course and start to run the sim in teams.

“What about a real rescue mission, _sir,_ ” it’s Keith with the same voice of contempt that Iverson has become accustomed to over the weeks.

“Stay in line, cadet,” Iverson threatens.

“Cowards,” Keith snaps.

“There was nothing left to rescue,” and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. It’s out of line in so many ways, but he’s worn down as well. He’s done all he can, and god help him, but Iverson did what he could for the memory of Shiro for the sake of this boy. There’s no saving him.

That doesn’t mean that he’s any less surprised when there’s a sudden blur of burnt orange and night dark hair moving towards him. It’s still a surprise when Keith’s fist connects with his eye, knocking him back in shock and to the ground.

Through the red anger and pain after Keith punches him, Iverson does understand. He’s mad as hell about being punched, but he gets it as people rush to his side. He’s aware of yelling to hold Keith back as well. He doesn’t get a chance to even look at the boy again before someone is pulling the cadet out of the room, and there’s a terrible sound before Iverson realizes it’s the sound of Keith screaming. Just one, long scream, and that shakes Iverson to the core more than anything else; the pain in his eye feels small to what the boy let free.

While his eye is being evaluated, eventually permanently closed, Keith is kicked out of the Garrison, and Iverson has no idea where he goes off to into the night.

This incident falls on the same week that Iverson walks into his office to see none other than Katie Holt looking through his computer.

“You said the spacecraft went down due to pilot error. I saw the video feeds from your probes. There’s no evidence of a crash anywhere on Kerberos!”

“Those feeds are classified! I could charge you with treason for hacking into them,” he grabs the girl by the arm and pulls her out of the office.

“Where’s my family!” she cries, unperturbed by how he’s caught her and throwing her out.

“Escort Miss Holt off the premises and make sure every guard knows she’s never allowed on Garrison property ever again!” he yells at the guard outside, who he should frankly also yell at later for letting the girl get in.

“You can’t keep me out! I’ll find the truth! I’ll never stop!” she yells at him, and Iverson keeps his back to the girl and lets the door to his office close behind him, not looking back.

Goddamn, his eye hurts.


	2. Chapter 2

When Takashi Shirogane returns to Earth, crashing down from space, setting off every alarm in the Galaxy Garrison defense system, he’s been gone a year but looks like he’s experienced a full lifetime of pain for someone so young with bangs turned white and alien technology replacing his right arm. He’s yelling about aliens and something called _Voltron_ as they strap him to the table of the makeshift quarantine zone they’ve set up next to the crash.

“Calm down, Shiro,” Iverson says, voice steady as he stands over the man he truly believed dead. “We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests.”

“You have to listen to me. They destroy worlds _. Aliens are coming,_ ” Shiro pleads.

But Iverson has orders, and his orders are to keep Shiro here and run the tests to make sure there’s nothing wrong with him, other than the external changes that can clearly be seen. He starts the process of going through cognitive questions, asking how long Shiro thinks he’s been gone, but the boy is so single-minded on this alien talk that he brushes the inquiries aside.

But Iverson has orders, and because they don’t know the capabilities of that new arm attached to Shiro’s body, he gives one of the other officers the task to put the boy under until they can figure more out about the prosthetic. Until they can figure more out about Shiro. He keeps pleading until the sedative takes him.

In place of Shiro’s yells, loud explosions sound in the distance, shaking the ground hard.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Iverson rumbles through the comms, and he’s met with frantic responses that the personnel stationed outside are heading out to see what it is. “Not all of you!” he screams back, but everyone is already so on edge that they mobilize and move out with efficiency.

Iverson orders the other two officers with him to get back to work, and they keep moving around Shiro, trying to collect whatever information they can off him with meters and sensors. Between the sight of the pilot alive in front of him and the baffling readings they’re trying to discern, when the door slides open to a figure, a bandana covering their face, Iverson is shocked. But there’s little time to think before the intruder knocks out the other two officers.

Moving forward, Iverson sees hard eyes flash and realizes, _Keith_ , before the runaway cadet attacks and knocks him unconscious as well.

When he wakes up later, disoriented, on the floor with another officer shaking him awake, Iverson can’t even be surprised that Keith took off with Shiro into the night. Of course, they lost him in the chase. Keith learned from Shiro, and Iverson knows Shiro could maneuver a hoverbike damn well better than anyone else. What does surprise him is that three other cadets disappeared along with them.

There’s no surprise, though, upon his return to the Garrison when Sanda shows up and yells at all of the officers about losing three cadets, a drop-out, and a pilot that’s supposed to have died in space a year ago.

Still sore the following day from where his body took the hardest fall, Iverson leaves hours of meetings about Shiro’s appearance and subsequent disappearance. The Garrison is trying to cover it up, telling other Garrison stations that it was just some stray space junk that got caught in the pull of the planet and crashed back down. If they were skeptical, no one said anything.

Iverson makes his way outside to break free of the confines of the indoors when more alarms go off. He doesn’t stop to look at what his datapad is flashing and just runs outside, slamming to a halt when he sees what appears to be...an enormous blue lion robot flying around in jerking motions, barely able to keep a proper flight path.

“What in the Sam Hill is that?” Iverson asks dumbfounded to the officer standing next to him who’s viewing the strange sight through binoculars.

“It appears to be a flying blue lion, sir,” the other officer answers sincerely, and Iverson can’t help but turn to the other man with annoyance and lack of amusement.

“I can see that,” he replies gruffly as other officers and cadets join them outside, everyone equally as thrown by the spectacle in front of them, until the lion launches into the sky and leaves the atmosphere.

There are weeks of examining the footage and any data that the sensors and probes around the Garrison could pick up, but nothing helped them learn anything more about what they’d seen. About what the events of the past two days could have meant.

Instead, they turn to the ship that Shiro crash landed in, and they start studying it. Picking it apart. Trying to figure the technology so advanced. Hoping as time went on they’d get some answers, something to help them the next time something like this happened but whoever landed wasn’t a familiar face.

They get the navigation systems and controls up, so Iverson immediately puts the engineering teams on the task to create a new sim using these alien controls for the day that they crack the ship and can use the tech for their own gain.

\---

Life goes back to training new recruits, looking over at their eager faces wanting to go far and beyond into records, into renown, and into deep space. Sometimes when he watches one of them make a particularly high score on a sim—never as high as Shiro’s, never as high as Keith’s—a sense of pride fills Iverson that, _yes,_ they can go on. The Garrison will continue to reach farther for humanity no matter what happens, but then sometimes he’ll see a brief expression on a cadet’s face that reminds him too much of years ago when Shiro let his typically guarded emotions shine through after breaking a record. And then Iverson gradually becomes sick with guilt as he stomachs through what feels like an endless cycle of cadets running the Kerberos Mission Rescue sim. It turns out there actually might have been something out there to save.

Enough time goes by that Iverson starts wondering if it was all a dream. The only time Iverson jolts back to the reality of the situation is when he goes to check in on the crew working on the alien ship and when they finally complete the advanced sim with the new tech.

Evidence that legendary pilot Takashi Shirogane used to walk these halls and fly the jets and crafts out in the hangar erodes away save for the memorial plaque left for him and the Holts in the main entrance of the Garrison. All of their names are mentioned as whispers in passing, particularly when the first day comes for a group of cadets to try the rescue mission sim.

Several flight teams do exceptionally well on the sim following hours of intensive practice, and it’s after Iverson dismisses him that he catches the words from a young cadet who always seems to think a bit highly of himself.

“I mean, how good could Shirogane be? We passed that Kerberos sim easy.”

Iverson doesn’t have time to process the sudden red he sees.

“What was that, cadet?” his voice rough, and it’s a harsh sound, like the sound of metal grating and being ripped apart. The sound no one would hear in space of a craft being destroyed.

“Sir, nothing—I just—”

“You just, _what_ , cadet?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the cadet snaps to full height but looks down, eyes staying on the sim room floor and not meeting Iverson.

“Weekend cleaning duties for a month. Report to Officer Montgomery, I don’t have the time to deal with you,” Iverson walks away as calmly as possible, damaged eye spiking with pain as he slams his hand on the pad to open his office door. His fist connects with the surface of his desk, hard.

Iverson never supervises the Kerberos Rescue Mission sim after that.

\---

He focuses on finding the best pilots they have and trains them on the new sim, and when he looks at their abilities, he feels hope.

And then another unknown spacecraft hurtles down to Earth, crashing outside the Garrison. This time Samuel Holt is inside. This time, no one waits and sedates the man immediately, keeping him unconscious for a week.

While Holt sleeps, monitored 24/7, the Garrison joint chiefs meet, the reality of the survival of a mission they covered up becomes more and more apparent. Iverson sits there in the room as around him the decision is made to confine Holt to the Garrison and not let any information about his return leave the grounds.

Once the joint chiefs and top officials set up a meeting with Holt, Iverson stands in front to offer the little information they have, including the intercepted transmission that he had pushed out of his mind two years ago now. He doesn’t want to admit there’s a coldness that seeps through his body at hearing the voice on it.

And then Holt uses the device he brought back to tell them what he knows. Iverson stands behind him, face remaining passive as he lets the information soak in: alien empires and warlords, magical energy and technology beyond human imagination.

Holt mentions that Shiro saved his son’s life, and Iverson can’t even be surprised that the boy did that. Of course he did. Iverson wonders if that was the move that left him with a missing arm and a shock of white hair, the image of Shiro from that night taking up a place next to the one of the boy at 15 on a hospital bed.

“That must be when Lieutenant Shirogane returned to Earth,” Iverson says when Holt mentions Shiro escaping from the aliens— _Galra._ He clicks back to his presentation to show the footage from the night of Shiro’s return, and Iverson can’t help but make the point he was following standard protocols. _But Iverson had orders._ That’s why he had to strap a boy he’d watch grow up down onto a table as he tried to plead for freedom with warnings of the coming storm.

Between everything Sam tells them about the Galra and Voltron, it’s the statement that _war is coming_ that stays with Iverson and chills him most. For his career, all the Garrison focused on was going beyond what humans ever have before. He never really thought about what would happen if whoever else might be out there came to them first, and so he takes a moment to be thankful that the Garrison had invested time in the last year to study the ship Shiro landed in and had immediately turned around to work on Holt’s as well.

When Iverson asks what needs to be done, Sanda stands and bars them from letting the rest of the world know, but they continue to try and send signals to the cadets still out in space, _paladins,_ Holt calls them.

Later, when Iverson introduces Holt to Griffin, Kinkade, Rizavi, and Leifsdottir, he can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face because they give him a similar feeling of pride he felt as he watched Shiro rise and rise. It might have been the same feeling he’d eventually have felt for Keith had the unruly cadet stayed in line.

Iverson watches Holt get the ship he returned to Earth functioning again. Iverson watches as Holt shows the Garrison how to incorporate the new Galran and Altean technology into their own crafts. Iverson watches the young pilots fly the new jets, crying out into the comms with elation at the power possessed in the controls in their hands. Iverson watches the Holts go against Sanda’s word and broadcast to the world what exactly is going on out beyond their solar system that threatens to come to their home.

But Iverson has orders, but he also can’t just watch anymore.

“If Sam goes, I go too,” his face is solemn as he turns to Sanda, then an officer runs in with news.

Iverson watches as the world comes together to develop something that will really give the Earth a fighting chance should the day come when the Galra attack.

And they do. The Galra come, and only the Garrison is truly equipped for this. Sanda orders to send out the standard fighters, and Iverson stands there, looking between her and Holt as they argue about sending out the MFEs.

But Iverson has orders, but he doesn’t want to follow them.

“Maybe we should listen to—”

“That’s an order,” Sanda cuts him off.

But Iverson has orders, so he sends out the first wave. Iverson watches their names go red on the command room screen.

The rest of the world falls.

Holt addresses the command room, and Iverson remembers the last time he heard the man take on this tone when defending Shiro’s ability to pilot the Kerberos mission. Sanda threatens to strip their ranks, but, Iverson thinks, looking over at the map filled with red, _what is there left to lose?_

The Garrison starts work on the IGF-Atlas, and the Galra build their own weapons with human labor camps.

It’s life during war, now; it’s life during a resistance.

\---

And then they’re back.

Iverson looks at Shiro in surprise and hides the fact he feels stricken at what Shiro has gone through since his brief time crash-landed back on Earth. The scar is still slashed across his face, but the metal arm is gone with nothing replacing it, just a protruding socket of alien tech where his upper-arm meets the shoulder. His hair has completely turned the shade of soft white snow; a color that’s never seen out here in the desert. Iverson says his name, and Shiro turns to him in shared surprise as Iverson apologizes for the last time they met. One of the new alien allies comes to Shiro’s defense, but then, Shiro comes to his.

“You were just following orders, as any good soldier would. It’s great to see you, too,” he smiles, and that’s it. He moves on to introductions, and while Iverson propels himself forward to greet their new allies, it’s in the back of his head, that, yes, _but I had orders._

Then his gaze turns to Keith, crouched low with a strange blue wolf. He’s grown. He’s grown more than the other cadets with bulk, height, and a scar across his face. The fleeting thought of how Shiro and Keith still fit together crosses Iverson’s mind, but then the boy stands to command and gives a _yes, sir_ that he has not heard in years. Iverson softens. Iverson apologizes.

“It’s an honor and a privilege to see you again.”

Keith extends his hand, and when Iverson takes it, the grip is sure. Shiro stands off to the side, head slightly quirked, a half smile on his face.

\---

Once everyone is settled, or as settled as they can be, getting acquainted with the halls of the Garrison and refitted into uniforms, no one can find Shiro in the minutes before the first meeting with the newly returned paladins. Keith moves to go look for him, but Iverson holds the boy back.

“Cadet, I’m sorry, but I think I know where he is…” he trails off. “Let me.” Keith looks skeptical for a moment but nods in agreement.

Iverson finds Shiro exactly where he thought the pilot would be. There’s a memorial wall constructed in one of the wings of the Garrison. They needed a way to honor the fallen, and it hurt every time they had to add a new picture and name. Iverson can remember every single one with aching familiarity.

He hasn’t seen Shiro cry since that day in the medical wing from another lifetime, and as he walks up behind Shiro, Iverson hears the soft apology with a hand on the name of the former love. Iverson catalogs another memory of a driven boy who just keeps getting cut down by the world around him.

It feels cold to so matter-of-factly state that the losses were needed to get where they are today and tell Shiro it’s time for their debriefing, so as he walks away, Iverson is not surprised at the lack of hearing another pair of boots following.

“He’s on his way,” Iverson informs the crowd as he slips back into the strategy room, and when Shiro does walk in later, eyes clear of tears or redness and replaced with hard conviction, he gives a small nod at Iverson before taking the seat left clearly open for him on Keith’s right side.

Later, when Sanda tries to pry the Lions away from the Paladins for the sake of saving the planet, Shiro steps in front stating “we’ve been through more than you can ever imagine,” which feels almost like an understatement. Iverson stands to the side of the group, expression hard-set with the rest, but the image of Takashi Shirogane now compared to the young pilot that went into space years ago asserting how much they’ve been through is striking. The slightest feeling of dread goes through Iverson along with sympathy for the boy—sympathy for all of these young people caught in war.

\---

The days pass in meetings, debriefings, and time out in the development hangars trying to do as much as possible to plan against the Galra. One thing Iverson notes at every meeting is that no matter how everyone rearranges themselves around the strategy room table, Shiro and Keith are always next to each other. Typically, the two walk into meetings together, which interests Iverson because he wonders if they’re spending all the brief moments of free time together. Are they even using their respective rooms or just sharing quarters? But the days when one runs later after the other, a seat next to them is left vacant. It’s unspoken. It’s Shiro and Keith, together. It’s as it should be.

They’ve always been close, everyone knows that, but Iverson watches them more and more as they’re in meetings, as they sit in the mess hall, as he sees them disappear around a corner of the Garrison towards a known entrance to the roof.

The Altean Princess, Allura, gives Shiro a new arm, one that helps instead of hurts, and Iverson overhears Keith asking Shiro at odd moments how it feels. He wasn’t present the day it was fitted on Shiro, but Iverson heard what happened, so the concern in the younger man as he examines Shiro makes sense. Iverson watches Keith scrutinize the arm, fingers running over it and turning it around in his hands before sliding his fingers to intertwine with Shiro’s. Iverson can’t tell if it was intentional or not, but the two young leaders spend a few suspended seconds staring at their joined hands, Shiro’s metal dwarfing Keith’s flesh considerably before their cheeks turn red and they move apart. If they weren’t in the middle of the war, Iverson would be irritated at the break in professional appearance, but if any two people here deserved something as precious as what seemed to finally be blooming between them, it was these two boys.

That’s the other thing, Iverson became so accustomed to viewing Shiro and Keith as boys. To him, yes, they’ll always be boys, but they’ve grown so much. It’s only proper to acknowledge the lives they’ve lived, what they’ve seen, and that what they’ve experienced has aged them in even more ways than what their physical appearances display.

Iverson wonders—no, he _knows_ —they found something they’d both been looking for in each other.

\---

When the Paladins and MFEs prepare to leave for a mission that Shiro strategized, Iverson sees off in a corner of the hangar, Shiro and Keith standing close. It looks like two team leaders conferring before setting out, but they’re facing each other just a fraction closer than needed, like they’re the light that each other needs, both of them straining to get just a single ray.

They get the Lions, but then they lose them and the Paladins in a flurry of attacking fire. Sanda is gone, her last act an attempted salvaging of her betrayal. Shiro calls for the Paladins. Nothing. Shiro calls for Keith. Nothing.

But then Iverson has orders, and they’re from _Shiro,_ and for the first time in a long time, he feels confident about following orders he’s been given. Then somehow, someway, they get the IGF-Atlas functioning.

Coran calls Shiro _Captain_ , and when he turns to look at Iverson, eyes wide and unsure, Iverson looks back with expectation and awe. It seems the Kerberos Mission wasn’t the moment that Iverson thought would be the major marker of Shiro’s skills and success, it was this moment—this moment when Shiro took control of a whole ship containing the personnel of the Garrison aboard.

Captain Shirogane’s face hardens, and he fires off his commands with confidence.

Shiro leaves the Atlas to fight Sendak one-on-one, but then Keith arcs out of the Black Lion’s mouth and cuts the demon haunting Shiro down—that’s something else that Iverson learns later, how Sendak represented everything Shiro feared in himself, but it’s Keith who will tell Iverson while they are the last two left in a strategy room meeting.

When Sendak is gone, something else arrives. A _Robeast_ they call it.

Voltron goes down, and Iverson realizes that when Shiro yells for the paladins, he’s really yelling for _Keith. Keith, Keith, are you there, are you okay—_

But that’s what it takes for Shiro to somehow change the IGF-Atlas into something even bigger than Voltron. And Iverson is sure, _certain,_ that if it came down to it, Shiro would have been capable of rallying to form this robot, but the fact is that the man he’s so clearly in love with is inside Voltron, immobile, and Shiro moved more than heaven and hell just now to save him.

When the lions fall from space, unmoving and unresponsive, Iverson once again looks to Shiro, but Shiro’s eyes are miles away. Miles and miles, with his gaze locked on the trajectory of the Black Lion as it burns through the atmosphere and lands near the Garrison.

Iverson watches Shiro break. He forgets that he’s the captain of a ship. He forgets he’s the commander of some newly formed mech. He forgets everything except the man inside the Black Lion who all those years ago he brought into Iverson’s office with such conviction that this new recruit would go to the stars and beyond. Iverson supposes everything Shiro predicted came true, and then some.

Shiro doesn’t listen as the crew yells at him when he simply runs out of the Atlas and pushes and pushes until he gets to the Black Lion. Iverson arrives at the crash site much later, after Shiro has already pulled Keith out of the Lion and is holding him oh so gently in his arms. The red helmet has been thrown off, visor cracked, and the side of Keith’s head is matted with bloodied hair. And there Shiro is, sitting on his knees, head bowed down to Keith with flesh hand tenderly brushing the scarred cheek. He’s rocking back and forth with eyes only for Keith, the rest of the world clearly has fallen away for him. Everything around the two of them is just static noise and a blank screen to Shiro.

Garrison personnel are crowding around the Shiro and Keith, and Iverson snaps out of it enough to yell at everyone to move back and get someone from the medical team to come help. But behind him as he glares down at people scurrying off, Iverson can hear Shiro’s single-minded whispered chant to Keith— _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, too._

\---

In the days that follow, there’s rebuilding and there’s bureaucracy. Iverson gets wrapped up in meetings with more people than he can keep track of, more aliens than he can even begin to remember as the Voltron Coalition makes Earth its new home. Shiro gets thrust as the face of the Coalition while the paladins rest in hospital beds. Keith is still not awake, the last one everyone is waiting on.

Iverson knows that the answer when anyone asks _where’s Shiro_ is _he’s with Keith._

Almost two weeks have passed and Keith has still not woken, and Iverson knows this because every morning when the joint chiefs meet, he asks Shiro how the boy is doing. Shiro always gives the same answer.

“He’s surviving, sir.”

Everyone is back to pulling weight that they typically don’t around the Garrison, so Iverson finds himself with another night patrol shift. He’s cranky about it and tries to use the time to clear his head but it remains too densely fogged with strategizing for the ongoing war.

His feet take him to the hospital wing, and he wishes there was more surprise when he pauses in front of the door to Keith’s room and sees Shiro inside. The Captain sleeps in a chair pulled close to the bed, head resting on the sheets with his hand holding one of Keith’s.

“He’s always so tired,” the voice startles Iverson, and his military training feels useless if he can’t even be prepared for someone coming up behind him.

He relaxes upon seeing that it’s Krolia, Keith’s mother (Shiro had introduced her during a meeting). Iverson learned that no matter how proficient a soldier he thought he was, he would never best this woman.

“He’s got a lot to do,” Iverson offers uselessly and nods in acknowledgment as they both stand outside the room, looking at the sleeping young men.

“You are close to Shiro, yes?” she asks.

“I have known him since he was a cadet here, yes, ma’am.”

“What was he like as a boy?”

“Well,” Iverson thinks about how to describe the determined cadet, but instead he offers his strongest memory, telling her about walking into a similar room so long ago to tell a boy with damp eyes and body curled close to protect himself from the world that he wasn’t getting his dream pulled out from under his feet.

“He’s a good man,” and there’s a hint of a smile on the corner of Krolia’s mouth, and it’s the most expressive Iverson has seen her. “I am ever thankful that Keith has him.”

“And I’m thankful that Shiro has Keith,” the statement is true and leaves Iverson’s mouth with little thought. It’s natural.

\---

Keith wakes up in the middle of Shiro giving a speech on the importance of the Coalition moving forward, face broadcasting across the galaxy. The moment he steps off the stage someone informs him, and the man is off. A full-bodied run and no one stops him. They all know where he’s going. Iverson lets out a chuckle at the sight of one of the most powerful people in the universe tearing across the Garrison, and it’s the first good laugh he’s had in ages.

Everyone earns promotions as a result of the fight with Sendak, and special uniforms are given to Shiro and the paladins. Keith becomes part of the top officials as the Leader of Voltron, and he attends all the meetings sitting at Shiro’s right side. If anyone other than Iverson notices that the two occasionally have a hand lying on the other's leg, they follow Iverson’s suit and don’t say anything.

The first time Iverson finds them in the Garrison, he’s on the roof again during a night patrol. He’s hit with the feeling of familiarity as he hears voices up there that he recognizes. Iverson turns around to go back down, give the two people he knows are up here undisturbed peace, but he still catches the _I love you_ that’s carried on the desert breeze.

The second time Iverson finds them it’s in the middle of the day and Shiro has Keith pressed up against a wall, arms bracketing in the younger man who has his hands gripping firmly on Shiro’s uniform jacket. So much for pressing the suits for regulation wrinkle-free wear. Their mouths are working hard against each other. And as Iverson noted, it’s the middle of the day.

“Officers,” Iverson barks, and the two break apart like caught teenagers. Iverson supposes in a way they are going through that phase of their relationship. “I recommend you keep displays like that to your private quarters, or, at least, not the halls at 3PM in the afternoon.”

“Yes, sir,” they both reply with wavering voices. Iverson pretends he doesn’t see that Keith’s uniform jacket is open and there’s a dark bruise forming on his neck. It takes everything within him to not pinch the bridge of his nose in utter frustration. Part of him wishes there was some additional form of insubordination he could chew them out for.

The third time Iverson finds them, it’s more that he walks in on it and can not look at either of them for a week. He’s supposed to go to Shiro’s office to meet with the Captain of the Atlas, and when he arrives outside, the door opens upon his knock. It had to be a malfunction because he’s met with the sight of Keith on Shiro’s lap, jacket discarded and undershirt halfway on its way to join it on the floor.

Everyone freezes and Iverson does pinch the bridge of his nose this time as he turns on his heels to walk away.

So Iverson doesn’t feel the slightest bit shocked when a few months later he’s meeting with Shiro (Iverson’s office this time and from now on) and the other man pulls out a small box to show the Commander. There are two rings inside, matching dark black with some alien metal glowing purple like cracking lightning in thin veins. Shiro’s cheeks have a dusting of pink as he stumbles out an explanation.

“I—I think, Keith and I, I—”

Iverson just wants to put the poor boy out of his misery.

“Congratulations, son,” Iverson smiles, and just for good measure because he thinks he’s been through enough watching the two of them, he pulls Shiro into a hug when he gets up to leave Iverson’s office. The other man tenses briefly but then thumps the Commander on the back, voice thick with thanks.

\---

A year passes since the defeat of Sendak, and the small battles occurring across the galaxy with a witch he’s told is named Haggar makes its way closer and closer to Earth, until the day Allura sends out a message that she can feel the witch is near.

Everyone has been ready for this moment and they scramble. Amidst the chaos of final preparations, there in the very center of the hanger that contains the Atlas, Lions of Voltron, and other wartime ships and jets, Shiro and Keith stand in their armor, foreheads touching, eyes closed, and mouths moving to form words only the other can hear. The command to make them break apart and get going gets lost in Iverson’s mouth, but the men have grown up to be soldiers and know their orders before they’re given. They are, after all, the ones giving the orders now. So they break apart after their moment of indulgence and go separate ways into battle.

This time it’s Shiro who streaks across the field to knock Keith back from blows by the Druids, once again abandoning the fact he captains the largest fighting vessel of all and choosing to bodily throw himself into the scrap to keep his love safe.

The dust barely settles with the taste of freedom sitting fresh across the galaxy when Shiro drops to his knee in front of Keith in the middle of the desert that had just been a field of battle. Surrounded by the Garrison and Coalition, Takashi Shirogane proposes to Keith. Keith’s face goes from startled to utterly soft in seconds, collapsing onto Shiro while chanting _yes, yes, yes._

It reminds Iverson of when Shiro held Keith in his arms in the dust after the battle with Sendak.

Somehow the entire incident is filmed so the whole universe watches the Leader of Voltron and Captain of the Atlas slide rings of promised commitment on each other's hands.

It reminds Iverson of a new beginning.

\---

Someone once said that a good wedding can fix anything, but Iverson isn’t certain who.

When they asked Iverson to officiate, he wanted to keep his face straight, but emotion did get the better of him and there was a small tremble in his good eye as he accepted. They said something about Kolivan being too serious and Coran being unable to get two words out before crying, so even if he’s a third choice, he’s honored. Shiro insists there was no third choice, just him.

The entire ceremony radiates hope. Shiro and Keith wear formal versions of their Garrison uniforms, each of them has embellishments across their jackets designating their places within the new universal order: Leaders of Voltron and the Voltron Coalition, Senior Blade of Marmora and Captain of the Atlas, Vice Admiral and Admiral of the Galaxy Garrison.

It’s sunset on the outdoor observation deck of the Garrison as everyone watches the couple exchange vows of devotion that anyone who knows them is aware don’t even really need to be said. Their love and commitment to each other are worn as plainly on them as the symbols of their positions on their chests.

And after shining gold bands join their hands next to the ones slipped on in the middle of a battlefield, Iverson can’t hold back anymore. “Okay, just kiss, you two.”

Everyone laughs as Keith so tenderly places a hand on Shiro’s cheek when they lean in. Iverson swears he hears a sigh echo across the universe when their lips connect.

Later that night when everyone is hours deep into a party celebrating the couple, Shiro finds Iverson who’s busy nursing some alien liquor that tastes vaguely like whiskey and cherries.

“Thank you,” Shiro says, “for everything.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, son,” Iverson smiles warmly.

“You know, I lied to you,” Shiro says, a twinkle in his eye as he turns to look out over the room to where Keith is talking with Krolia and Kolivan.

“About what?”

Shiro smiles. “The day I went to Keith’s school to give the tests, he did do the best. Flew better than anyone I’d ever seen. Hell, he flew better than me.” Shiro stops to take a drink of whatever is in his glass. “And then he stole my car.”

There’s a look across his face that can only be described as completely lovestruck adoration, just an inch on the side of dopey, as he confesses the true story of that day all those years ago. Both of them were such different people then.

“He stole your car?”

“Yeah, and then I bailed him out of juvie.”

Iverson laughs, he laughs _hard_ , shaking his head and Shiro joins him. This is how Keith finds him as he walks over.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, and this is the most Iverson has ever seen the young man smile.

“I told him about the day we met.”

“I stole your car.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says the word breathless, and they lose themselves in each other again before remembering Iverson also standing there and thank him before walking back out into the room, arm in arm.

Iverson wonders if that’s the day that sealed the fate for all of them. Not just Shiro and Keith and the people in the immediate circle around them, but the entire universe. He wonders if them meeting that day led to a relationship that would inadvertently save the universe. If Shiro hadn’t gone to Kerberos and been lost. If Keith hadn’t holed up in the desert and felt the pull of the Blue Lion.

If they had not slowly fallen in love before realizing it and fought for each other as an extension of fighting for the universe.

Iverson wouldn’t say that they’re the center of the universe, certainly the center of each other’s universe, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever see a fiercer love than this.

And now he’s here, inching towards retirement but stubbornly staying at the Garrison as long as he can so he can watch Shiro take up Admiralship for a new era of peace and cooperation across the universe with Keith by his side, not just as his right-hand-man, but as his equal and partner as they lead universal unity forward. Iverson really feels thankful to have been able to see these two grow.

He bows out of the party to thumps on the back for his role as officiator and a yell from Lance to join them doing shots. As if he would ever. Wandering the empty halls while everyone celebrates, Iverson thinks, yes, he’s done here now, probably. He had his orders, and he’s completed them. He rounds a corner and lets out a sigh. Of course, it’s Shiro and Keith ditching their own party to make out in the halls. He thinks of something.

“Cadets!”

They jump in shock and move off of each other, looking sheepish at being caught, which is laughable as they’ve been grown adults for years and are well in the realm of what they’re allowed to do on their wedding night. Just, preferably not in the middle of Garrison halls. Also, they’re not cadets.

They both start to fumble out apologizes, and Iverson tries, he really does, but he starts to laugh lowly at the sight of the two of them. Shiro’s Admiral badge is crooked.

“Be good to each other. As you were,” and he walks away to matching _yes, sirs_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this super self-indulgent fic. 
> 
> yell @ me: [twitter](https://twitter.com/vrepitsana) & [tumblr](http://exitlude.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> yell @ me: [twitter](https://twitter.com/vrepitsana) & [tumblr](http://exitlude.tumblr.com/)


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